Aikou Kirai
by fuck everything i choose to be
Summary: She loved him. He loved death. Something about them just seemed to fit. Until an intelligent detective came into the picture. MisaL.


**Disclaimer:** We don't own any of the characters, and seeing as there isn't really any places mentioned… Anyways, all we own is the plotline. The name of the story means Love Hate. So yeah! Hope you guys like.

**Aikou Kirai**

If everything had gone her way, they would not be in this predicament. Sometimes, she wished he would just kill her, get it over with, because she knew one day, that she was going to die for him, because of him… What was the difference anymore?

Twice, she had made the irreparable trade, twice, she had split her life in half. All for a man that she knew did not love her. He did not love anything that was tangible. Death was his only lover, and when he came to her at night, it was to keep her from complaining about his lack of attention. She took it all in stride, convincing herself the more that she offered him, the closer he would come to loving her.

Once he had pretended he loved her. Now he didn't even try to hide the fact that he didn't love her. It didn't hurt her. She just kept trying for it. Trying to obtain the unobtainable. The love of a man in love with death. She was jealous of one of the most fearsome things in the world, and she would have given everything to have him pay as much attention to her, as he did to his beloved Death Note.

Quixotic as she was, she was coming to realize that he would never give up his obsession with the death of criminals. No longer did he simply do it to rid the world of evil. It had become a mission for himself. He wished to become a god. And when she questioned the morality of this horror story, he would spin her a fairy tale, about a god and goddess, ruling over the new world, in love forever more. And then he would turn back to that book, the binding as new as it had always been, and write another name, picture another face. His way of showing love to the book.

Never once did he show love to her. It was easy for her to pretend he did, when she was walking by his side, hand in hand. Even though she could feel that hand itching to write a name in a book that she could never measure up to. Easy to pretend he really cared, when his arm was casually draped around her slight form, a small smile gracing his lips while he created small talk with his parents. They accepted her, thought that their darling son was madly in love. And she fit in with them. In any other situation, it would have been perfect. Rather than being murderer and murderess, they would be husband and wife. With a loving mother and father-in-law.

With L gone, she had believed that it would be easier to show their love. How naïve she had been. Their love was a one-sided affair, and it had not grown into what she had hoped it would. Rather than the unwavering love for one another, she had become a parasite, that he only looked to when he needed a name. A name that was not hers.

It was hard, but she managed. Every time she doubted their relationship, he would turn to her, and hold her. Tell her that everything was alright, and she had no reason to fear his leaving. And she believed him. After wards, she told herself she was pathetic, but when he looked at her with those eyes, talked to her with that voice, she felt special. Like she was the only thing he would ever think of. So she stayed. And it started over. The hurt. The extraordinary pain that she had thought she could never bear. Wishing this family was her real family. Not that family of her murderous first love.

So, she had finally admitted it. Her first love. She had always told herself she loved the others, if only for a little while, but now that she understood what it was, she was ready to admit she had never felt this before. It hurt her overbearing pride, and salted her already painful wound. Her first love would never love her back. Irony at its finest. She was a beautiful young model, and he was a young man with an upstanding background. Yet he loved a book more than her. A book of death.

She could have laughed in L's dead face, if his death hadn't hurt so much. Once he had tried to convince Light to play with her emotions, and he wouldn't. His _morals_ were far to good. What a laugh. And yet, he had never been found out. He had played the part of innocent college student perfectly well. And she had played the ditzy, love struck lover overly well. So well in fact, that she fell into the role, and became it. Or had it simply become her?

The other girls, for there were others, fell as easily into his trap as she had. Every time she found out about a new one she would desperately try to convince Ryuk to write her name down, because she had promised him she wouldn't.

Not that he kept any promises to her. What were promises to a man… no merely a boy. What were promises to a boy, pretending to be a man, who could kill you without a thought to right or wrong. Who believed everything they did was right. Everyone against them was wrong. Like L.

Once he was gone, she realized how much emptier her life seemed. He had always been there, always, on her and Light's 'dates', and he had paid her more attention than her beloved Light had. Had he tried any harder he could have persuaded her to eat the cake he unfailingly offered her with that crooked smile of his.

The clear declaration of friendship had broken her heart into more pieces than Light could ever hope to. The childish way he said things endeared him to her, and she had found herself deeply enjoying his company. And without him telling her, she figured he liked being in hers as well. Light either fell asleep, or stared blankly out the window during their dates, only listening in when there was something important being said, never associating that with her.

She found herself wishing she could get out of this mess, and she knew that she actually could, but what would Light think? Death. Misa would die. He would kill her with ease, and it would bring a great weight off his mind. He would just find another girl, someone he could lure into his trap again, someone as devoted as her, and with the way things were going, that would not be hard.

Her interests in Light were failing her. Clearly she was being caught in another trap. One set by someone who had actual interests in her, besides her eyes. Well… maybe he liked her eyes, but not the way Light did. Maybe he liked the way they sparkled when she was intensely happy. And maybe he liked the way that when she was focused on something she cared about (him for instance), they were filled with a crazed ambition to protect whatever it was. Even if they had a notebook to do so.

Once, she had told Ryuk to take the notebook from her, take those awful memories, and if he could, to take the memories of her love for Light away too. He had given her the Look. The one where the smile got a little bigger, and the eyes got a little narrower. He reached for her eyes, to take away the Shinigami seeing, but she had stopped him with a cry.

And so she had kept the memories, the hurt, the misplaced affections. And secretly, everyday she would fall into those eyes of deep blue, while her other love was at his side, sleeping, or looking elsewhere. She could even cause flickers of emotion to flash through those blank eyes, and he often said things he wouldn't say if Light were awake.

It hurt to lie to him, and sometimes she would think about killing herself, but what would happen to her there? Limbo? A fate worse than hell? The Shinigami realm? She shuddered at the thought. Could that be where the humans who used the Death Note went? Did they become Shinigami? It was a theory she often thought about, and it was usually the one forcing the blade away from her wrists.

Often times she cried when they were both out of sight. Her tears never washed away any fears as they had when she was little, those stayed in place in her mind. She didn't feel any better when she cried either. Actually it left her feeling tired and in even more distress than she had been before those untimely tears had been shed.

Only once had she ever cried in their presence, and as per usual routine, Light was asleep, and L was paying vivid attention to her. He had asked her what she felt for Light. And the tears flew to her eyes as if she had been asked to describe every detail of her parents deaths. The startled look on L's face made her think maybe he was seeing her how Light did, a burden, not to be paid attention to. Then he stood, slumped over as he always was, and without jingling or unsettling the chain, he pat her on the shoulder with a simple, "Do not be upset Misa-Chan."

And it had been enough. She stopped crying, and looked at him with her tear streaked face, and red eyes. And he looked back, his eyes telling her she was as beautiful as ever. Or maybe she imagined it. It was a pleasant thought in the haze that fell over her then.

The day Light came strutting into her new house, was the day her life really ended. The way he described in great detail the way L had fallen from grace, keeling off of the chair and into Light's arms. The way his eyes shut with absolute certainty, certain that Light was Kira one, and that Misa was Kira two. Surely any feeling he had towards her then had gone fleeting from his body.

And that hurt. Almost as much as the fact that he was gone. Gone from her life, and she was gone from his thoughts. Everything was hurting inside. Then she had forced a cold sheet over her heart, her feelings. And she had gotten better at pretending her love for Light was as great as it had ever been. But at night, when she dreamed of L, she wondered, whether one day, could she ever repay what she had taken from so many people? Just so that she could join him in whatever place he had gone.

Surely he had gone somewhere good, not like the place she was going, wherever that was. When she died, she would find a way to repay her sins, and go to him. Make him forgive her for everything. The lies, the hurt. His life. For in the end, that's what she had cost him, his life. And she had done it for someone she didn't truly care about anymore.

She would cry, and scream, and beg. With every fiber of her being, she would pray for the forgiveness she knew she didn't really deserve. Until she got it though, her life, and death, would be meaningless. And when she got it, she would tell him none of it had been truly her. The feelings for him were the true Misa.

The crisis she was in was hers till she died. And only when she died would she be able to get to him, no matter how long it took to get it.

She came to grips with the fact that Light wasn't about to fall in love with her, because he had a mistress of his own. And death was not a mistress easily undermined.

**Ending Note:** Alright, Echo here. Great story right? We are so good. So yeah! If you liked it review. Alright?

**Ryan:** Ha ha ha. So, since I hate Misa with Light, I couldn't really keep it that way, so it just developed itself into a Misa/L. Don't you love it?


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